


A Friendship Renewed

by FireflyFairey



Category: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyFairey/pseuds/FireflyFairey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was Biggles likely to forgive the woman who nearly got him shot as a traitor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friendship Renewed

**Author's Note:**

> Set between chapter xiii and xiv of ‘Biggles Looks Back’.
> 
> “There has never been another woman in my life,” Biggles tells Von Stalhein.  
> “As far as I know there was never another man in hers,” he replies.
> 
> I took that to mean exactly that.

It was late in the evening when Greta returned with supper for three.  From his uncomfortable bedroom in the sentry box outside on the balcony, Biggles heard Marie cough at the window. “What’s up?” he stretched his cramped limbs and came over to her.

“Greta brought a meal,” she said quietly. “Are you hungry?”

“I am a bit,” Biggles admitted.  He glanced back at Erich.

“Don’t wake him,” Marie put her hand on Biggles arm. “He’s been under a lot of strain. Sakhalin took a lot out of him. I’ll keep some supper for when he is ready. Come in, it’s warmer in here.”  Biggles nodded; the autumnal chill had made itself felt through the open window in his hotel room the night before, and it was certainly colder on the sheltered balcony than it had been there.

“We should keep those in case things go wrong and we need it,” Biggles indicated a tin of meat and one of fruit. Marie nodded and placed them to one side. Quickly she divided everything else into shares, and wrapping Erich’s in a cloth placed it on the table.

They began to eat in silence. It was not the companionable silence of old friends; rather the constrained silence of people unsure where to begin. Despite his claim of hunger, Biggles picked at his food, occasionally glancing towards Marie. Marie too seemed disinclined to eat. She looked tired, Biggles noticed, and preoccupied.

Marie cleared her throat “I have a little _schnapps_ if you would care for some?”

“Is that what passes these days for Cognac and Gauloises?”

Marie lifted her eyes and turned towards him. “You remember?”

“It wasn’t every day I was offered either on the front,” Biggles pointed out.

“I suppose not,” the corners of her mouth lifted slightly in remembrance, before a shadow flitted across her face.

Biggles noted it and inwardly cursed his clumsiness. No, it hadn’t been every day. Just the days he landed his Camel in the field near her farmhouse. He reached into his pocket and extracted his cigarette case. Offering them to Marie, he took one for himself, placed the case on the table and reached for his lighter.

 Biggles snapped it open; Marie leaned towards him in order to light her cigarette.

The hazel eyes met blue and held for a long moment. Abruptly Biggles pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, shoving his hands, with the lighter and his unlit cigarette, into his pockets.

He looked down at Marie; a harsh expression marred his face. As he began to speak, the words tumbled out.

 “I was court martialled, you know. I believe if Colonel Raymond hadn’t put in a good word for me I would have faced the firing squad. He constantly brought up my ‘good service record’ until I wanted to take a Very pistol and shoot him. For years afterwards, I would wake up screaming as the Gothas dropped their bombs. Sometimes I would reach for you as I slept only to wake to an empty bed in the cold light of dawn.” Biggles paced restlessly around Marie’s small sitting room.

“I’ve never forgotten you. Never forgotten the hurt and pain I went through,” Biggles said bitterly. “At first I thought you’d been killed that night, and for a while afterwards I wished you had been. I knew the entire counter-espionage corps were after you and went through hell picturing you caught and shot, and whatever else might have happened. I was drinking a bottle of whiskey a day and going to pieces fast. If the war hadn’t ended when it did, both of us would be dead. The Brass-hats ordered a bombing raid on the Chateau for the afternoon of November eighteenth.” He withdrew his clenched fists from his pockets, looked at the crushed cigarette in his hand and threw it down onto the floor, grinding it viciously under his heel. He reached for his case on the table, lit another and turned towards the window. “Christ,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. He stood for a few minutes, not seeing anything of the night-time landscape below him. Marie watched his rigid back; a tear rolled down her cheek, her own cigarette burned in the ashtray, forgotten.  “I burnt your note,” Biggles said abruptly, “and I never spoke of it until Erich mentioned you.” He took a deep drag and exhaled forcefully, blowing smoke through the open window.  As he smoked, his shoulders began to relax. When he finished, he pinched it out and turned towards her.

 “Time heals, and as I grew older I came to realise that, as I said a few days ago, that there _was_ nothing to forgive. Whatever you did you did because you had to. What you didn’t have to do was to risk your own life to save mine.” His expression was softer than she had seen.

“It wasn’t until afterwards I learned that you were the thorn they were trying to eradicate,” Marie smiled sadly. “All I wanted was to save the man I had come to love. I never spoke of what I did. Erich and I had come to an understanding, a few weeks prior to my arrival at the farmhouse that, by the way, was part of my Mother’s family property and, you must admit, conveniently situated. Erich and I came from a similar class and it would have pleased both our families had we married. It was a good match,” she admitted.  “When I returned he saw that things were different, and wondered at my change of heart. It was during what you would now call a debriefing when we were trying to work out what had gone wrong that I told them you had dropped the note at the chateau, the _Oberst_ laughed and told me with much humour that you had been the main target of that particular raid, rather than just your squadron. The look on my face must have told Erich all he needed to know. All he said as we left the room was ‘now I understand’. He never said anything else. It took a while to get me out of France after the war. I was still a wanted woman in some circles.” She picked up her cigarette and put it to her lips before realising it had gone out.  Biggles flicked his lighter again. Marie murmured her thanks.

‘But Erich…,” she looked over towards the sentry box where Erich lay asleep wrapped in his blankets, “didn’t stop hoping. When the war ended, he stayed with the _Wehrmacht_ , working to serve the interests of Germany. Later he wrote an opportunity had come up for him to work against the British. I trained to be a nurse and our paths moved further apart as he lost hope,” she shrugged. “But we never lost contact.”

There was silence for a while. Marie’s head bowed; a strand of her hair had come loose from its place and fallen over her face. Biggles brushed it back behind her ear. The tips of his fingers lightly traced the line of her jaw. Despite the warmth of the room, his fingers were cold. Marie caught his hand in hers. Her fingers curled around his and she pressed the cold fingers to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into them.

Biggles hand gripped Marie’s fingers tightly in return and he dropped down beside her. “So am I,” he murmured into her hair.

“I wish I could change the past,” she sighed.

“You can’t. Neither of us can,” his chin rested on top of her head and his free hand stroked her hair. Marie snuggled into his shoulder. She slipped her arm behind Biggles, her other hand began to play with the fingers holding hers. “I wish we might stay this way until morning.”  
“We could if you like, but it will mean neither of us will be much use tomorrow, and what if Erich wakes up?”

“He has been awake the last three nights keeping watch and worrying,” Marie said softly. “I think he has earned his rest.” Rubbing her head on his chin in a feline manner, she said huskily, “I can always say I asked you to guard my body.”

 Biggles breath caught. “Do you mean it like that?”

Her hand slid around the back of his neck, and she lifted her face to his. He read the answer in her eyes. Tentatively, his lips brushed hers for a moment, then his forehead rested against hers, and she closed her eyes.  He could feel the moist warmth that hung between their parted lips, and his heart gave a sudden lurch. His hands slid up and cradled her face gently. He moved away slightly in order to observe her. Marie’s eyes opened slowly, and she found Biggles regarding her intently.

Outside an owl hooted and Erich snorted in his sleep. Marie stiffened.

“I’m not sharing if he does wake up, you know,” Biggles said.

Marie buried her face between his loose collar and neck and laughed softly, a small sob in her throat. “I wouldn’t ask it of you.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer towards him. A gust of wind spattered the rain against the window. ”What rotten weather you have in Czechoslovakia. It’s going to be a chilly night.”

 “I instructed Greta to let the fire die down,” Marie admitted.  “I wish I hadn’t now. This room will be cold by morning. I wasn’t expecting to have company.”

 “I’ll put some more wood on,” Biggles kissed the top of her head and went over to build up the fire. Marie watched him, before getting up herself to fetch a couple of blankets, cushions and something to drink. She dropped them down on the rug behind him, observing as he coaxed the coals into life, his hands full of pieces of kindling. His shirt had pulled loose from the waistband of his trousers, and a hint of skin showed

It was tempting, she thought, and slipped a hand under the white shirt and tickled him. Biggles writhed. “Let me get this going and I’m all yours,” he said with a grin.

“Better hurry up then, my Beegles.” Biggles writhed once more before she removed her hand.

“I will,” he promised, tossing a couple of pieces of wood on the fire and replacing the fireguard.

Once satisfied the fire wouldn’t need attention for a while, he sat down, wrapped her in one of the blankets, and drew her closer, his chest to her back. “Just until the fire really gets going,” he said. “You know I’ll have to be back outside before morning?” he added quietly, stroking the blanket where it rested over one of her arms.  
Marie nodded and leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth and his touch.

They stayed like that for a while, relaxing and feeling more content as the fire warmed the room. Biggles smiled and kissed her temple. He eased her back gently, until she was lying comfortably on the floor. He lowered himself to lie beside her; her fingers touched his body hesitantly and he moved toward her until their faces were only a short way apart. He closed his eyes as their lips touched. At first shyly, then with growing confidence he kissed her, nibbling her bottom lip as she opened her mouth to taste him. Her hands clasped his shoulders, pulling him against her. He ran the tip of his tongue along the soft flesh of her neck and swirled it into the hollow of her throat. He unbuttoned the top button on her housecoat, his nose penetrating the gap where his lips and tongue would follow. His hand slipped from her shoulder to hip, brushing her breast as it passed over the silky material. She gasped slightly.

“Marie?” he lifted his face and met her eyes.

“I’m alright,” she whispered with a smile, her fingers brushing his cheek. His eyes didn’t leave her face as he deliberately and slowly undid the buttons to her waist, before lifting one side of the slackened fabric. He slipped his hand, inside, cupping her breast and weighing it in his palm for a moment. He thumbed her nipple and smiled as he felt it harden.

Her fingers flew to his chest. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, the collar of which he had loosened before settling down for the night.  She thrust her hands under his silk vest, and pressed her hands against his firm pectoral muscles. Her fingers teased sensuously and slowly, and he gave a moan of pleasure. He twisted away in shock as she pinched his nipples hard. His reaction elsewhere to her ministrations was obvious. Marie dragged the shirt over his shoulders, running her hands down his silk clad back before tugging impatiently at the waistband of his trousers. Biggles rolled over onto his back, taking Marie with him. She sat astride him, her housecoat slipped, showing the embroidered neckline of her nightgown.  Biggles caught her wrists as she reached for his fly buttons. “Not yet,” he said firmly. “Will you be good if I let them go?”

Marie nodded. He ran his palms firmly over her wide hips before brushing the fingertips up to the neck of her nightgown.   Deliberately he unfastened the ribbon that held the garment closed, and pulled it loose. One button at a time followed, his fingers caressing the valley between her breasts as he found each button. Her hands twitched but she remained passive. He pushed both the nightgown and housecoat off her shoulders, where they slithered down her arms and caught on her elbows. She shrugged them off and the material pooled over his groin.

Her breasts no longer held the pertness of youth that he remembered, but a softer maturity, heavy and warm, pale as cream. And utterly delectable.  His hands traced the round globes gently and began to play with them. Marie arched into his hands and inched her hips backwards, until she was over the substantial lump visible through his trousers.  Biggles exhaled sharply and his fingers convulsed, causing Marie to gasp. “I think,” he said breathlessly, “that..oh Marie,“ he groaned as she pushed onto him again.

“Are you not enjoying my little attentions?” she asked. “I’m sure I could find another way to amuse you.”

 “I believe my trousers might prove an encumbrance sooner rather than later, and there is a damned lot of other material in the way,” he said unevenly. She laughed. “I can arrange to have it removed, my Beegles,” and soon his trousers and her nightclothes were on the floor.

Biggles swallowed as she took his erection in her hand. Marie brushed her thumb over the moist tip, and his heart beat faster. He closed his eyes as she began to stroke him. Gently, he loosened her grip. "Good as it is, I won't last long if you do that," he explained, guiding her back to lay beside him. His lips explored her throat with feather-light kisses.  He pushed his face between her breasts, before taking a nipple in his mouth and rolling it around his tongue, savouring the taste and texture. Marie entwined her fingers in his hair and made little noises of pleasure in her throat.

His fingers brushed her nest of curls, damp with her own moisture. Her hips lifted towards him urgently. Intrigued, he moved further down. He placed a kiss on the inside of her thighs, and gazed with fascination at the core of her femininity, his thumbs resting lightly on her hipbones. Dare he touch, he wondered.  Marie’s breathing was ragged. He blew gently and she pressed towards him with a moan. “Oh yes my Beegles.”

He found a small protuberance; the lightest of touches on it caused her to writhe and toss her head from side to side. She pushed down again, whimpering. He continued to play with it, unsure quite what he was doing; only knowing that it caused her immense pleasure. Slipping a finger inside, he found a rhythm that suited her.  Her breathing deepened; he slipped a second then a third finger inside. She moaned intensely, gripping his shoulders hard as she pushed down on him. He felt her constrict around his fingers, she gave a long keening cry, and his hand filled with wetness. He was still for a moment, before withdrawing his fingers gently and kissing her belly, held her gently. He stroked her side until her breathing steadied slightly. She opened her eyes and pulled him upwards with a smile, settling him between her open thighs. Her fingers dug into his hips and she thrust towards him in encouragement. He needed no second invitation. Her legs wrapped around his back as he slid inside.  He closed his eyes and held still for a moment, almost overwhelmed by the exquisite sensation. He withdrew slightly. She cried out as he did. Again, he fought for control, forcing himself to try to relax. He held his breath; he held his body still for a long moment before giving in and thrusting hard, focussing on his own pleasure and trying to extend it for as long as possible.

Marie met him thrust for thrust. His own breathing became uneven, and he became aware his groans of pleasure were in unison with her higher pitched cries. She dug her nails in harder to his buttocks; there was a roaring in his ears as he tipped over the edge into a juddering climax. He groaned harshly and collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily and brokenly, his head resting on her shoulder.

He slowly became aware of his surroundings and rolled to his side.  Marie’s face was wet with tears. He kissed them away tenderly and she clung to him, holding him tightly. He soothed and stroked her hair and back, until she relaxed. From her regular and even breathing, he thought she might have been asleep. The fire died down, and the room grew darker. He moved to put another log on. “Leave it,” Marie said quietly.

“As you wish,” he replied, kissing her. He rolled over onto his back and cradled her, before lighting each of them a cigarette. Her head on his chest and they smoked in contented silence.  Somewhere a clock in the castle struck the hour. Biggles realised how late it was and sighed.

“It’s late,” Marie interpreted his thoughts. “Greta will be awake soon.”

Biggles smiled sadly and reached for his trousers. “It wouldn’t do for either of us to be found like this.”

“When we’re back in England I won’t send you away,” she promised.  “I have a fancy for a small cottage somewhere, with a garden and a few chickens. Somewhere not too far from London so you can visit quite often.”

“We’ll scandalize the neighbours, you know,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “And they’ll call you ‘That French Hussy’, but I will help you look for a place if that is what you would like.”

“I would,” she said, slipping her housecoat over the nightgown and tying the sash. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lingeringly.

“I’d better go.”  Marie saw him to the window, back out to the wet balcony. “Stay inside, dear. We don’t want you ill again,” he let go her hand and turned towards the guard hut.

 “Until tomorrow, my Beegles,” she whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> WEJ wrote in ‘Biggles Looks Back’ Marie made her way through France to Spain, where she was brought home by German Intelligence. Later in the same book he wrote ‘It took a while to get Marie out of France’. I have gone with the latter as it aligns more closely with the story ‘The Last Show’ from ‘The Camels Are Coming’.


End file.
